watching from the fire escape
I breathe in daylight, fresh air
a blue jay lands in a dead garden
her colors brilliant & offensive
dried leaves rustling like
fading nightmares
an urge to suck in colors before me
& vomit them back out
like the Destroyer God who
crushes galaxies in his hands
(Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash)
the only freedom I want
is to break my ego’s chains
which confine me in cold cemeteries
to the dead,
who rise each night & breathe fire
only I can see,
who speak in a language
only I can understand,
telling me with certitude
I’ll join them soon
& also haunt the living
(Photo by Scott Rodgerson on Unsplash)
On the eve of the funeral, there was a knot in my stomach –
his death was so sudden
a Friday night phone call + he’s gone forever
I felt panic, a wave of grief that threatened to demolish me
my sister stepped into the summer night + screamed
a primal shout that began long years of healing.
(Photo by Richard Burlton on Unsplash)
When democracy died, I was reading Kafka –
gunshots blared + factions fought for ideals
they thought worth dying for –
TVs tuned to Washington +
the White House went dark,
troops marched + destroyed dissidents.
Continue readingWhat happened to the woman who
was nearly stoned to death?
Jesus said to not sin again,
but if she’s like me, she was
back in sweaty sheets later that day,
engaged in sinful acts – it’s a fact that
we’re far from saints + sainthood is
a hatred of humanity
but Jesus was half-God,
so it’s not so odd to believe
He died for me + whether I sin today
or tomorrow doesn’t matter much
because grace is free
(Photo by Laura Allen on Unsplash)
A teacher told my mother I’d join a cult –
that was in the ‘90s + twenty years later,
I was a recovery zealot, driving through
snowstorms to share my sorrows with
strangers, always thinking I was in danger,
fighting my impulses + a mind that
seemed to want me dead.
(Photo by Karl Fredrickson on Unsplash)
Buried deep in this sea, there is ancient treasure –
it’s been hidden for ages, from a sunken ship
that carried gold and human remains,
but all that remains
are brittle bones, skulls + chests filled with fortune –
I’ll dive deep + discover it, even if it kills me,
bring it back to this sandy shore so I can
explore this coastline dotted with land mines
from a distant war – the war that took my father + tore
this island nation to pieces: the woman wailing,
lonely in their huts without their husbands +
the children afraid of the night
when mutant-men prowl swamplands of death
+ devour human and beast alike.
(Photo by Max Okhrimenko on Unsplash)
This birthmark on my back is a mark I carry
from body to body – I die, am reborn
in another time, but my soul remains the same –
forever after the same truth, relentless in pursuit +
snared in masses of mankind + the death-march of progress
toward blood-soaked extinction or utopian dream
(Photo by Majid Rangraz on Unsplash)
Note: This poem was inspired by a theme in the novel, Cloud Atlas, by David Mitchell. It’s a terrific book and I highly recommend it!
When I die, I want to go quietly – free from the miseries
of my body breaking down, organs sickened,
cutting off life as drift away.
When I die, I want to wake in a better world,
away from earth’s torments + the adverse emotions
gurus say we must bear.
Continue readingWhere do those neighbors get their money?
They’re up late on weeknights, drinking beer,
playing games in the street – the young woman
has glazed eyes, she’s always stoned;
the boyfriend doesn’t have a care
in the world, in a world
where so many are dying
and a feeling of impending doom
clutches us by the throat.
(Photo by Mika Baumeister on Unsplash)
